


McKenzie

by xX_AJRfootfetish_Xx



Category: Eleanor Rigby - The Beatles, Paul McCartney - Fandom, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Based on a Beatles Song, Early Beatles, Eleanor Rigby - Freeform, F/M, Father McKenzie - Freeform, Gen, Original Character(s), Paul Is Dead Theory (The Beatles), Paul McCartney OC, Post-Beatles, References to the Beatles, Trans Character, Transphobia, paul mccartney - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xX_AJRfootfetish_Xx/pseuds/xX_AJRfootfetish_Xx
Summary: Paul McCartney died 9 November 1966. He was dead for years.Then he came back.
Relationships: Paul McCartney/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Introduction/Death

It was a chilly night in early November, Paul's breath visible in the air as he stormed out of the studio. He loved the boys, he did, but it was getting harder to be around them. He wanted to get a little work done on Sgt. Pepper's before he was dragged off to some art gallery, but that wouldn't happen.

All John had to talk about was this  _ wonderful _ Ono he'd started beating it to. The bastard had a new woman each week, always ignoring the poor lass he'd already wed, but that's how it was with John. He didn't want anything to do with his girl unless he was horny or needed something to hit. Bugger even had a kid at home that he couldn't keep himself in line for.

Paul swung open the door to his car and climbed in. What made him really narked was the fact that Ringo of all people was joining in. A couple of alcoholic wife beaters, too pissed to even think, on his ass about more useless shit. He was done. If no one wanted to do their job, then he'd buzz right the fuck off. Drive his car so fast that he couldn't see the roads anymore. He didn't need any more fanciful stories, or zoned out ideas, or half-assed insults from some gobshite with powder still on his nose.

His surroundings passed quickly, blurs in the corners of his eyes. He should've been more focused on driving, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He knew his way around like the back of his hand, and hardly anyone else was on the road anyway. What was he gonna do, crash?

  
  


Time stopped. He heard the screech of metal, glass breaking, felt his body continue forward while his car stopped.

He looked around at the darkness. He couldn't hear anything, or see anything beyond him, but he could still see his nose poking out as if he was lit up perfectly. He tried to look down, but still saw only black. His body was gone, but he could still feel it. He was too tired to panic, so he reached out his arm instead, and suddenly something hit him in the back of the head. He felt his head spin, and his disconnected body drifted into view.

His head was off his body.

He was suspended in black.

He fought through the disorientation and grabbed at his head, knocking it back a bit and having to swim towards it. Finally, he got hold of his hair and pulled his head towards the rest of his body, putting it atop his shoulders as best he could.

Everything went white.


	2. Baby, You're a Rich Man

Paul Isaac McKenzie was born on the 9th of November, 1966. He was found on the steps of a Catholic church with several scars, one wrapping around his neck, one on the left side on his top lip, and the last on his left eyebrow.

He also appeared to be born totally blind, with eyes cloudy and white. Paul wasn't blind, though, at least, not totally. He did need glasses, but he could see, making his eyes just as strange as the scars on his head. That, mixed with his paper white skin, made him look very cadaverous in appearance. Like a ghost.

Not to mention the strange incidents that always seemed to happen around him. It was a wonder that Paul was never called an anti-christ of some sort. Why the church let him stay, he never could figure out. And as of late, he had started wishing they kicked him out.

Paul is 26. He was raised by the church, thrown into priesthood as soon as he was 25. Maybe it was Father Descko's way of making sure he didn't fall to sin. If Paul was brought up as a holy man, he would never lead a life of sin. He would be pure. He would be uncorrupted.

However, if that was Descko's plan, the plan failed. Paul now sits at a table in his nearly empty, cold house. He doesn't have money for a heater, so he keeps his blanket around him. A radio plays on the kitchen counter, crackling on about police rioting. He rolls his eyes and puts out his cigarette, then shuts off the radio.

Raising him to be a holy man has only placed more stress on Paul's shoulders. He's broken two of his three vows several times. The truth is, Paul is losing faith. He isn't sure when it happened, but somewhere in his life, he became empty. He's felt that way for a long time now. He just needed to pray harder, Descko told him. He needed to strengthen his faith. What better way to do that than to become a priest?

Paul stopped talking to Descko after that. He stopped talking to anyone. Instead of confiding in his fellow man, confessing his pain, he started drinking. When that wasn't enough, he started smoking too. Then, when the alcohol and the cigarettes didn't fill that void in his soul, he turned to sex.

He'd thought about it. Maybe if he spent less money on alcohol and cigarettes, he could afford a heater for his home, something he badly needed during the freezing winters. He never had the strength to let go of his toxic habits, though. Instead, he decided to freeze to death if that was what the universe had planned for him.

The universe, not God.

It doesn't take long for Paul to get ready anymore. The cold forces him to move quickly in order to be allowed warmth again, and it's always cold in his home. There are times where he's sure that it would be more comfortable to live in a walk-in freezer. What he lacks in obedience and celibacy, he seems to make up for with poverty.

The ride to church is a short one, at least. He pushes his bike to move just a bit faster, the thought of warmth making the ice cold air worth it. The church has a gas furnace, which he's found to be much more efficient than his home's wood burning fireplace.

When he enters the church, Descko immediately comments on his appearance. He looks cold and tired, Descko says. When will he get his heating fixed? If he doesn't do it soon, Descko might just go out and buy Paul a heater himself. Paul smiles and assures that his home is fine, ignoring the voice in his head that begs for help.

He glances around the bodies in the pews on his way to the back. Homeless always flock to the church during winter, not that he blames them. He's doing the same thing right now. Although, he reminds himself, he should be glad to at least have a roof when the snow comes in.

On his way to the offices, he spots Rose. He feels brand new heat flush his cheeks. Rose, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, as well as a very dedicated nun with whom he has no chance. She smiles at him as he passes, and he nearly stumbles, his heart pounding in his chest. He grins and waves at her, forcing his eyes to move away so that he might finally go back to a normal temperature.

Paul isn't always hollow, the space in his chest doesn't always feel totally vacant. Rose changes that. She makes him unbearably happy, but also terribly sad. He wishes he could abandon the church and take Rose with him, but he knows it's stupid. Why would she want to go anywhere with him? How would he even get them there?

He's so lost in thought that he almost walks face first into the office door. He forces his head clear and shivers slightly. The world is cold again. It's always so fucking cold.

The rest of the day passes pretty regularly, tending to issues around the church, but mostly taking care of the cemetery. Paul found a while back that he preferred to be out among the dead, rather than inside dealing with the living. He feels more at home there. He's been mistaken for a ghost on several occasions, which he knows makes Descko want him inside. Descko has always felt the need to hide him from the world.

Today, Paul sits at an unmarked grave. He's always drawn here, although he's not sure why. Leaning against the stone, he closes his eyes with a tired sigh. He always feels a pull to this grave. It feels warmer here than anywhere else, like an invisible bubble is around the area, keeping the cold out. This one spot is always comfortable, always home.

The wind blows softly, but it's nice. It feels like spring. There's no snow here, somehow the ground is dry. Paul has noticed this before. There's never snow here, never rain, it's always dry and warm. Like a place that exists outside of time.

Outside of time and space.

In the darkness.

He falls asleep.


End file.
